In our quaint armpit of the world, we have had a sudden outbreak of male flashers. Not here in the little village where I pay my lawn and mow my taxes, but in the big ol so-fist-er-kated and thriving met-rop-ee-lis just down the road.
Maybe it's because of the late July heat. Maybe it's because they done finished that sixth Harry Potter book already and just don't know how they're gonna wait two years for the final installment. Maybe it's because they're frustrated over the news that Brad was emotionally unfaithful to Jen. I have no clue why, but men down here have decided to just go ahead and drop their pants.
Both of these things happened last week:
1. A man was arrested for going on a peety-peeking spree and exposing himself to something like a dozen women and one Krispy Kreme donut store clerk.
2. Another guy was arrested for first, trying to run down another guy that he knew with his vehicle...second, then jumping out of the car and exposing himself...and third, then trying to beat the other guy up.
Now, I'd like to especially ponder over the second guy. What the hell was he thinking? "Hey, I better not run him over cause then that'd be murder but you know what I'm gonna do? I'm gone jump out of this truck and show ol Freddie my business and then I'm gonna whoop his ass!" Now, who thinks like that? Is is really so smart to get in a fist fight with your johnson in the wind? Wouldn't that be just like a big ol tag hanging out with an announcement saying "Yank me real hard and you'll win the fight!" And why would he want to show the other guy his tiny totum anyway? Apparently they were aquaintances from way back and had been arguing. Wouldn't the other guy have been likely to already have seen his willie in the restroom or in the shower at the gym? WHAT WAS THE POINT? "Look at me! I've got a monster in my pants and now I'm gonna go postal on ya!" I just don't get it. If I were going to get in a cat fight with a fat woman in a tight t-shirt that said "Hottie" on the front in glitter writing, I would NOT first yell "take a look at these chi-chi's baby!" nor would I expect that flashing my slightly off-center Brazillian landing strip would in any way intimidate my opponent...
Now back to the topic of flashing in general. Why is it that men are always the flashers? Does it go back to Freud? Do men think that women really just want to get a good look at what having one of them hoses is all about? What goes through their heads as they prepare to flash and run? "I think I'll show 'em how it hangs and then they'll scream like granny on a roller coaster!"? Do they then go home and fantasize about all the mayhem that they and their little mini-me's just caused?
Of course, I know why there are never any women put in jail for flashing. Because when a woman flashes someone, no one calls the cops...instead, she gets beads thrown at her or a free drink from the bar or a ride to the 7-11.
I'm sure there's some interesting and complex psych-uh-lodge-cal explanation for men who go around throwing out quick shots of their vienners, but couldn't they just get a hobby instead?
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Fatty’s Got a Gripe:
I Hate Authoritarian Know-It-All’s
And No, My Wedding Dress Does Not Zip Anymore, Thanks to the Two Children Who Expanded My Rib Cage by THREE INCHES
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.
Now, let’s now forget that I have given up ‘crappin’ in favor of this, my digital diary, so once again, for pos-tear-tea’s sake, I’ve just got to speak my mind. With a necessary layer of generalization intended to protect the guilty, I’ve got to say that I hate people who lead with the “I know better than you” attitude.
This could apply to the oft-maligned and always deserving GT hags of the world, to the smart ass DPS ossifer who stopped me for going 72 in a 70 zone, to the "I'm a RedNeck County native and you're not" backwoods goofballs, and to other generally thoughtless humans who think they can make decisions without even consulting the poor idiots in their midst. The attitude I’m talking about is one where the Authority thinks that he or she is the “inspired one,” the only one capable of thinking of “big ideas” and that those “worker bees” around him/her are too dumb, too young, too inexperienced, too knock-kneed, or too bucktoothed to possibly have an interest in being a cooperative part of the decision making, even if that decision is going to smack dab damn skippy affect-in-a-big-way that poor buck toothed, cock eyed underling who somehow got in the way. And what recourse does the underling have but to SUCK IT UP and TAKE IT, because the Authority made the decision and who are you to even think you might like to join the conversation anyway? So much for flippin’ modern open communication techniques.
I write this not just confuse the hell out of everyone else but also just for the record, because I’ll look back on this one day, when I’m 85 and still working because social security went bankrupt and I’ll still need money to feed my Sudafed and stool softener habit, and so I’ll be the head grocery bagger at the Kroger, and I’ll have to manage the other grocery baggers and I will need to remember that when I think all the baggers should start doing this, that, or the other, I should probably remember back to when I was young and stupid and getting pushed around by the Authority and I will go to those damn baggers and ask ‘em what the hell they think about the matter.
Then maybe they won’t write about ME on their BLOGS.
And who made me this way, anyway? Mama, why didn't you raise me to just shut up and take it? Where did I get this rebellious streak that has no respect for such smart ass holier-than-thou egos? I have a feeling I know (the B-man). Regarless, I feel better for just gettin' that out of my system.
Monday, August 01, 2005
Fatty:
How I Spent My Summer Vacation...
...With my butt in the water and a beer in my hand, and a big sign on my back that says, "Shut up, I am reading."
Bumpus and Boudreaux:
How We Spent Our Summer Vacation...
...Sticking it to the GT MAN and pretending we don't know Rufus, because we're broke and don't have any more cash for bailing him out of the hoose-cow.
Rufus:
How I Spent My Summer Vacation...
...Pickin' up hot chicks, shootin' guns, and flippin' the bird at all those fat ass drunk red necks with man-boobs who were clogging up the river.
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Get Out the Blow Torch - My Shoulder is Frozen!!!
After about 4 months of shoulder pain, an MRI, several sets of X-Rays, injections with a 5 inch needle into my shoulder, and several types of drugs, the Orthopedic Hunk told me today that my shoulder was frozen. He then took out a very fancy prescription pad and prescribed some rehab for me (maybe I could move into Ridgecrest) and also prescribed me my VERY OWN shoulder rehab kit (whatever the hell that is - I think it involves some pulleys). I told him that frozen shoulders seem to run in the family and that my very own muther had been a victim of the icy disease. He told me that hopefully I would not have to have the same arm wrenching treatment that my muther had endured - he thinks that jerking on some pulleys will make me feel much better in a FEW MONTHS. The good news is that this is the first medical clinic I have ever been in that had NO FEMALE NURSES - they were all guys about 30 years old, 6'2" and very handsome. I think my shoulder might hurt for a very long time........
Wednesday, July 20, 2005
WWYD
Another afternoon it wuz at the dock yestiddy. Yo Mama
had been in the galley mos de afternoon a-choppin and
a-gratin 'n a-slycin 'n arrangin so as 2 have what we do
call Baggies Enchiladas 2 includ the man callet Howard
4 dinner, corectly known as supper. When a voice from the
skies tolt me 2 take a break. I wuz a-standin out there on
the dock a-talking to varius strangers when The Kaptain came
a stormin out the door and ran 4 the upper level a-yelling
thet the terlet (being HIS) had overflowt and he had a flood
on his floor. (He was a-goin to get dirty towels to mop it
all up with). Well, that terlet room at best measures 3 1/2'
by 2 1/2',wall to wall, 'n iffin U take out the cabinet and
terlet furniture U has a floor spase bout 2' x 18", hardle
beg nuf to accomodate 1, much less 2 bodies the sizes of ours.
N E way it weren't my pooper paper put n-2 that terlet in
x-cess amount to kause that flood 2-B Praise the Lord for small
favers. So I jes stayed on the dock a-talkin bout nuthin to
strangers when bout that time The Kaptain comes a-running out
the door with sum wet towels yellin things like, "thanks, jes
thanks alot 4 all ur help", "sur was nise that U came to help
me", "the g.d. terlet flooded the whole boat 'n U weren't there
to help me". I kin assure U thet the strangers on the dock
didn't no what to think. Me neither cept I knowed nuf to jes
keep my mouth zipped. 2 make myself look better 2 the strangers
on the dock, I got on the flooded vessel and stuck my hed in
the door and seid, "kin I help U?" 'n The Kaptain yellet real
loud, "NO, I got it all klean up all by myself". So I went
back up yonder with the strangers and soon The Kaptain had the
FINAL WORD, he opent thet door to the boat and yellet with his
eyebrows raised and his eyes bugging out, "AND WITH NO THANKS
TO YOU" !!!! Everbodie on the dock jest stared and stared.
Suppose them folks wanna n-vite us 2 their 5th-wheel water homes?
He did borry, by the by, jes 4 the records, with no permision,
thet same previously written about pooper pot frum the kitchen
kabinet ...guess I'll have 2 add it 2 his working tools box.
What do ya think? Yo Mama thinks nothin, she jes reports the
news as it happens, jes like on t.v.
had been in the galley mos de afternoon a-choppin and
a-gratin 'n a-slycin 'n arrangin so as 2 have what we do
call Baggies Enchiladas 2 includ the man callet Howard
4 dinner, corectly known as supper. When a voice from the
skies tolt me 2 take a break. I wuz a-standin out there on
the dock a-talking to varius strangers when The Kaptain came
a stormin out the door and ran 4 the upper level a-yelling
thet the terlet (being HIS) had overflowt and he had a flood
on his floor. (He was a-goin to get dirty towels to mop it
all up with). Well, that terlet room at best measures 3 1/2'
by 2 1/2',wall to wall, 'n iffin U take out the cabinet and
terlet furniture U has a floor spase bout 2' x 18", hardle
beg nuf to accomodate 1, much less 2 bodies the sizes of ours.
N E way it weren't my pooper paper put n-2 that terlet in
x-cess amount to kause that flood 2-B Praise the Lord for small
favers. So I jes stayed on the dock a-talkin bout nuthin to
strangers when bout that time The Kaptain comes a-running out
the door with sum wet towels yellin things like, "thanks, jes
thanks alot 4 all ur help", "sur was nise that U came to help
me", "the g.d. terlet flooded the whole boat 'n U weren't there
to help me". I kin assure U thet the strangers on the dock
didn't no what to think. Me neither cept I knowed nuf to jes
keep my mouth zipped. 2 make myself look better 2 the strangers
on the dock, I got on the flooded vessel and stuck my hed in
the door and seid, "kin I help U?" 'n The Kaptain yellet real
loud, "NO, I got it all klean up all by myself". So I went
back up yonder with the strangers and soon The Kaptain had the
FINAL WORD, he opent thet door to the boat and yellet with his
eyebrows raised and his eyes bugging out, "AND WITH NO THANKS
TO YOU" !!!! Everbodie on the dock jest stared and stared.
Suppose them folks wanna n-vite us 2 their 5th-wheel water homes?
He did borry, by the by, jes 4 the records, with no permision,
thet same previously written about pooper pot frum the kitchen
kabinet ...guess I'll have 2 add it 2 his working tools box.
What do ya think? Yo Mama thinks nothin, she jes reports the
news as it happens, jes like on t.v.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Why The Mustard Jar Is On The Table
This b my finality con-tri-bu-tion this Tuesday a.m. but feel
U need 2 no what is goin on here at this island paradise, much
safer place then Aruba, near Belize.
My PO thinks I be lackin in knowin how 2 make a sandwich. So,
I jes decided 2 put the mustard jar on the table and let him fix
my mistakes. Well, I made a grave error yesteddy and put sum
musterd on both slices of his home-made, warmed in the oven,
MOW bread. Nowin in advance thet I didn't do it rite, I also put
the jar with a knife it it on the table in frunt of his tummy 'n
his tidy, blue placemat with used napkin. In no longer then a
minit he wanted to no why I, Yo Mama, had ruint his sammich by
lettin him put more mustert on it. I did it agin, why oh why
kaint I do things rite round here? Will u testify in kourt 4 me
regardin how I truly ain't crazy when he goes to put me away in
a safe place and keep my dog?
Yo Mama and her Tuesday morning delimna
U need 2 no what is goin on here at this island paradise, much
safer place then Aruba, near Belize.
My PO thinks I be lackin in knowin how 2 make a sandwich. So,
I jes decided 2 put the mustard jar on the table and let him fix
my mistakes. Well, I made a grave error yesteddy and put sum
musterd on both slices of his home-made, warmed in the oven,
MOW bread. Nowin in advance thet I didn't do it rite, I also put
the jar with a knife it it on the table in frunt of his tummy 'n
his tidy, blue placemat with used napkin. In no longer then a
minit he wanted to no why I, Yo Mama, had ruint his sammich by
lettin him put more mustert on it. I did it agin, why oh why
kaint I do things rite round here? Will u testify in kourt 4 me
regardin how I truly ain't crazy when he goes to put me away in
a safe place and keep my dog?
Yo Mama and her Tuesday morning delimna
Shall We Gather At The River Or The Beach ?
Jes want the next-of-kin 2 no that The Kaptain of the water based
5th-wheel is workin on the major, major lectric sistem this mornin
and he ain't even turned the big switch off. Probably cause he is
a yankee by birth. Now I kain't be 2 sad, the air-cool sistem is
keeping me kool and the ice maker is a-runnin. But seems to me that
my PO and his no-it-all buddy Howard mite be a-burnin jes like the
cat-crap featured in an earlier blog iffin they take one tiny bad
turn of the rubber handle tool. Stan by for news of when and where
we will be gatherin at the river for a ceremony.
Yo Mama is sittin by
5th-wheel is workin on the major, major lectric sistem this mornin
and he ain't even turned the big switch off. Probably cause he is
a yankee by birth. Now I kain't be 2 sad, the air-cool sistem is
keeping me kool and the ice maker is a-runnin. But seems to me that
my PO and his no-it-all buddy Howard mite be a-burnin jes like the
cat-crap featured in an earlier blog iffin they take one tiny bad
turn of the rubber handle tool. Stan by for news of when and where
we will be gatherin at the river for a ceremony.
Yo Mama is sittin by
Yo Mama Has Her Boobs Upheld
Yo Mama is writin to let Fatty no that I remembered to put on my bra
this mornin rather than friten the neighbors on the dock-of-our-choice.
Sumtime I jes put on another nitie on top of my current-in-use nitie
to take ur sister Lucy P. Jones to poop 'n when I do that I don't stop
long nuf to add a booby support. U will 1-day no what I mean 'n not
even think bout airing out the girls 4 fear they mite jes fall off.
Sur wouldn't go half-neked at sin city, nown as L.V., and lay my girls
on the blackjack table as I swear 2 Bahia thet I saw happen sum years
ago when I wuz yung and foolish and havin fun there. My PO has a woman
nown as ex#5 who has big-'uns. long and droopy, and she never wears a
booby uplift, n-stead she wears brown or black men's socks with her
hippie sandals. Praise the Lord she has moved her butt to the western
coast of what is nown as Florida. So that is what I have 2 say regarding
boobs 2-day
The words of Yo Mama in black 'n white
this mornin rather than friten the neighbors on the dock-of-our-choice.
Sumtime I jes put on another nitie on top of my current-in-use nitie
to take ur sister Lucy P. Jones to poop 'n when I do that I don't stop
long nuf to add a booby support. U will 1-day no what I mean 'n not
even think bout airing out the girls 4 fear they mite jes fall off.
Sur wouldn't go half-neked at sin city, nown as L.V., and lay my girls
on the blackjack table as I swear 2 Bahia thet I saw happen sum years
ago when I wuz yung and foolish and havin fun there. My PO has a woman
nown as ex#5 who has big-'uns. long and droopy, and she never wears a
booby uplift, n-stead she wears brown or black men's socks with her
hippie sandals. Praise the Lord she has moved her butt to the western
coast of what is nown as Florida. So that is what I have 2 say regarding
boobs 2-day
The words of Yo Mama in black 'n white
Yo Bahama Mama Recommends It !!!
Yo Mama has n-vented sumthin that U will want to no
as soon as U git this. The very best thing 2 help U
ig-nore children and PO's and cats poop and such is:
Crystal Light Raspberry Peach beverage mix. It is
loaded with calcium. Dr. Livesay mite want 2 no bout
this amazing discovery too. Mix a little bucket of
this stuff with a little less water than recommended.
Pour ur-self a healthy swig of Coconut Rum (Bacardi
COCO is mitey fine) and fill 'er up with Raspberry
Peach mix. U will delite in what U have done.
Bacardi sez "More flavor and more fun with every
pour" and they requests U "enjoy our products
responsibly". Thet is good advise.
Wun of the nisest things bout this refreshing drink
is thet the COCO Rum is colorless and no body, not
even ur PO, kin tell what you got goin.
With luv to you from Yo Mama
as soon as U git this. The very best thing 2 help U
ig-nore children and PO's and cats poop and such is:
Crystal Light Raspberry Peach beverage mix. It is
loaded with calcium. Dr. Livesay mite want 2 no bout
this amazing discovery too. Mix a little bucket of
this stuff with a little less water than recommended.
Pour ur-self a healthy swig of Coconut Rum (Bacardi
COCO is mitey fine) and fill 'er up with Raspberry
Peach mix. U will delite in what U have done.
Bacardi sez "More flavor and more fun with every
pour" and they requests U "enjoy our products
responsibly". Thet is good advise.
Wun of the nisest things bout this refreshing drink
is thet the COCO Rum is colorless and no body, not
even ur PO, kin tell what you got goin.
With luv to you from Yo Mama
Friday, July 15, 2005
Where will YOU be at midnight tonight?
Just a wonderin' where are the dysFUNctional people are going to be at midnight tonight? Is El Capitan (aka the P.O.) gassing up the boat and heading for the nearest bookstore in the Bahamas to participate in the Harry Potter midnight party???? (he might if he knew they were serving cookies and punch, except he wouldn't want anyone watching him eat the cookies). I KNOW that my east texas hillbilly cousins will be out past curfew as will the west texas contingency. Tomorrow the land yacht heads off to even further west texas with the three boys in tow. The girl child will be taking the Sunday a.m. limo to west texas along with her other giggling teenage friends. I will be making the trip with headphones on (but no music coming out) and my new HAIRY POTTIE book in tow. This afternoon I am making the LONG trek to Dallas and back to pick up Katie from the Baptist Prison Encampment. I plan on doing any necessary deprogramming on the trip back home......Hopefully she and Carrie Beth had a good time without joining the Baptist church. I am NOT taking my computer on vacation having told all those different people that I work for that they will just have to without me for a week - what a liberating feeling!! Therefore, I am already suffering withdrawels from my dyFUNctional friends, but I will be sure to give a full report when we get back (if I come back - I am seriously considering joining the Big Mamas Topless Revue in Vegas since I truly do like to "shake what my mama gave me").
I except some INTERESTING reports from the other dysFUNctional members when I return!!
Viva Las Vegas!!!!
Cat-Crap
I except some INTERESTING reports from the other dysFUNctional members when I return!!
Viva Las Vegas!!!!
Cat-Crap
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
Beau-ti-ful Woman in Trendy Style Hat
05 June 8 staniel pink hat
Originally uploaded by Annie Kaint Work No Mo.
Yo Mama is gittin week in the brain because the PO is leanin heavy on my thinkin, but how did sumbody-I-won't-call-any-names see my pitcher be-4 I published same and make a smarty remark about my bra strap a-showin. I jes want ya to no thet it weren't the same bra sumbody-I-won't-call-any-names dug and rooted arount in my bed and found my very-fine-dog's bra and bone faverite toy and made fun of same.
Yo Mama be standin by 4 a reasonable and fashionable answer acceptable in polite company
Woman in work hat labors cheap
Woman in work hat labors cheap
Originally uploaded by Annie Kaint Work No Mo.
You probly B thinking that Yo Mama don't do much but just sit around going yachting but I wanna tell you a new story bout all that sorta stuff. There I wuz last p.m. with my arms in dish soap up to my elbows when The Kaptain of the vessel-of-the-year said, "git me 1 or 2 cookies". An I said, "here is the package". An he got real agitated and sez "I don't like to get cookies out of a sack with the dog watchin me so YOU get 1 or 2 cookies out for me". An I sez, "ONE OR TWO", as I dried off my soapy arms. And he sez "give me 1 and I'll let you know if I want 2" and I jes tossed 2 cookies at him and took the dog, so she couldnt't watch him eatin cookies, and went outside and laid down on the front of the boat. Now, it ain't like I just be sittin and pickin my nose, and ain't like I don't wash loads and loads of smelly clothes, wearing my washer-woman-in-the-isles hat. Dog watches me do that stuff, what the h--- does it matter if the dog watches him git cookies out of a package. I got a neighborin friend by the name of Howard and this morning he sez, "why you lying down on the deck las nite" and I jest sez, "U would not unnerstant or believe it iffin I tole you.
Yo Mama want to no iffin U unnerstand
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Roaches of the world, kum 'n get it
My Kaptain of All the World, who knows most everything there is 2 know bout anything sez paper napkins are not 2 B thrown away after each meal. We has to keep 'em and keep 'em til they become good diet support - ruint yur appetite when you set down to an-other luvely home prepared meal by the smilin, gracious and expert cooker on the boat-of-the-year. 'N then, when they bekum naste enuf, he takes 'em and polishes stuff with 'em, like the hinges on the frig-er-ator and freeze box. I bet them roaches on other people's boats kin smell that good stuff setting now on my hinges and kin hardley wait for nite time. Todays offerins on them hinges is mayo, musterd, sweet pickle relish, cookie, oatmeal, brown sugar, milk.
Do U suppose ur mama has been locked up 2 long with her PO, I mean, think bout this. I been sittin within his vision sence May 26 x-cept for my 2 day time off 4 good behavior when he went boat shoppin one more time. And then he wanted me setting by the phone so he could call me 'n see what I thought bout nothin.
Opinions are solicited.
Yo Mama wrote this all by herself
Do U suppose ur mama has been locked up 2 long with her PO, I mean, think bout this. I been sittin within his vision sence May 26 x-cept for my 2 day time off 4 good behavior when he went boat shoppin one more time. And then he wanted me setting by the phone so he could call me 'n see what I thought bout nothin.
Opinions are solicited.
Yo Mama wrote this all by herself
Friday, July 08, 2005
Well Wipe My Butt....We Got a Fan!!!!
I know about red….
I know about pink….
I really don’t care
What others may think.
I know about green….
I know about brown….
Isn’t it the color I’m supposed to flush down?
I know about gold….
Though I’m a little puzzled by blue….
But what in the heck am I supposed to do
When I look in the toilet and see purple poo?????
I know about pink….
I really don’t care
What others may think.
I know about green….
I know about brown….
Isn’t it the color I’m supposed to flush down?
I know about gold….
Though I’m a little puzzled by blue….
But what in the heck am I supposed to do
When I look in the toilet and see purple poo?????
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
PERIODIC BLOG SURVEY
Hey all you blog lurkers out there (we know you are there) - time for our periodic blog survey. If you visit this blog on a frequent (or infrequent) basis, please take a little time and let us know what you think by posting a comment. Please also let us know where you are from and how you found our dysFUNctional blog.
Thanks,
The Management
(aka Fatty and Cat-Crap)
Thanks,
The Management
(aka Fatty and Cat-Crap)
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Who Needs Legos, When You Have a Cow Pelvis?
Another equation:
10 rural Texas chil-run
+
1 walk in the woods
+
~40 ancient, bleached out cow bones
=
One hoppin' good time.
Has anyone here seen Lord of the Rings? I think that those Ring Wraith people's masks were modelled after cow pelvi.
This photo hints at all sorts of "head up the ass" and "bovine pornography" issues, but I won't go there. I'm still stuck on analog.
10 rural Texas chil-run
+
1 walk in the woods
+
~40 ancient, bleached out cow bones
=
One hoppin' good time.
Has anyone here seen Lord of the Rings? I think that those Ring Wraith people's masks were modelled after cow pelvi.
This photo hints at all sorts of "head up the ass" and "bovine pornography" issues, but I won't go there. I'm still stuck on analog.
Find This on Your Doorstep?
In East Texas, we like to try lightin' various and assundry items ablaze, sort of like a roll hillbilly laboratory of love.
I won't tell you what this is, but I will tell you that prior to this burning ring of fire, we set off two chickens, two roosters, and several cats. Those cats made so much noise that the Devil himself hid under the bed.
All of which reminds me...
FOR SALE: ONE ROBOTIC BUTT BOX
PRICE: FREE
REASON: Apparently my cats generate immobile clumps o kittycrete because the RBB scooper consistently got stuck.
WHAT NEXT? We have now moved on to the big tub with the lid with the hole cut out of the top. When the grumpy pusses are in it, they look like they are driving a Yugo with the sunroof open.
THANK YOU, Cat Crap, for your robotic and analog butt box wisdom.
(Analog...I really meant that as a way of saying "old fashioned," but once I typed it, I realized that it held other metaphorical significance as well!)
I won't tell you what this is, but I will tell you that prior to this burning ring of fire, we set off two chickens, two roosters, and several cats. Those cats made so much noise that the Devil himself hid under the bed.
All of which reminds me...
FOR SALE: ONE ROBOTIC BUTT BOX
PRICE: FREE
REASON: Apparently my cats generate immobile clumps o kittycrete because the RBB scooper consistently got stuck.
WHAT NEXT? We have now moved on to the big tub with the lid with the hole cut out of the top. When the grumpy pusses are in it, they look like they are driving a Yugo with the sunroof open.
THANK YOU, Cat Crap, for your robotic and analog butt box wisdom.
(Analog...I really meant that as a way of saying "old fashioned," but once I typed it, I realized that it held other metaphorical significance as well!)
Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!
COUNT US IN!
That's TWO for chicken fingers, ONE for livers, and ONE for a 40 ounce Corona with lime.
EVER WUNDER WHAT THIS B 4 ?
EVER WUNDER WHAT THIS B 4 ?
Originally uploaded by Annie Kaint Work No Mo.
Do U no what this B? It be the spot where U gets pooper out of ur facility and gets rid of it 1 way or nother. Now Yo Mama may be old and grey of head and missin the boat sumtimes with her thinking but The Kaptain shore did put his hose in it this very morning.
We wuz tied up at the fuel dock and he was a-fillin his diesel gas tank and it only took 13.9 gallons and he a-started a-jumpin up and down that it B WRONG, WRONG, WRONG. That tank was M-T more than thet. Each 1 of 2 holds 300 gallons. So he went to tother side of thet boat and put in almost hunderet gallons. His smarter buddy by name of Howard looked at that 1st fuel hole and it weren't for diesel it was for emptying poop. OUR Kaptain had put 13.9 gallons of diesel fuel @ somewhere neer 4.00 a gallon in ther with all that poop. Whewy Whewy wuz he ever distraut. Would have thot since he be a WW2 pilot he wood've nown the differentation between poop and fuel. We had 2 go then a l-o-n-g way off n-2 the ocean to dump that poopy stuff. Wisht 4 you. Nex time we hope he be reading the little lids that say DIESEL and HOLDING TANK and B nowing the difference. The crowning blow wuz when he finalee said "I wundert why that fuel hose was 2 big 4 that hole in the floor".
Yo Mama has taken to her bed and onct
again sent The Kaptain and his best frend named Howard to the next island for the afternoon. I B needin a nap B-4 the evening festivities get goin.
Yo Mama has testified the truth, as Howard is my witness.
Saturday, July 02, 2005
4 GALLONS AND COUNTING........
Yep, anyone out there have a hankerin for some ice cream just stop over at my place. So far I have purchased EIGHT cartons of Blue Bell on the Wal-Mart 2/$5.00 sale. Your flavor choices include:
2 - Homemade vanilla (of course)
2 - Cookie Dough (for the 14 and under crowd)
1 - Strawberries and Cream
1 - Key lime pie
1 - Triple Chocolate
1 - Cookies n' Cream
There is a new flavor called Peanut Butter and Jelly which I thought FOR SURE someone at my house would want, but alas it was pronounced unacceptable.
I will be going back tomorrow for more........am keeping my fingers crossed for Coconut Cream Pie
2 - Homemade vanilla (of course)
2 - Cookie Dough (for the 14 and under crowd)
1 - Strawberries and Cream
1 - Key lime pie
1 - Triple Chocolate
1 - Cookies n' Cream
There is a new flavor called Peanut Butter and Jelly which I thought FOR SURE someone at my house would want, but alas it was pronounced unacceptable.
I will be going back tomorrow for more........am keeping my fingers crossed for Coconut Cream Pie
BORN 2 B A BEAST OF BURDEN
BORN 2 B A BEAST OF BURDEN
Originally uploaded by Annie Kaint Work No Mo.
Man is not useless, he just needs some direction. N this kase, a lotta di-rec-shun, like hold onto the pink purse and pull the groceries 2 the boat. Does a good job too, even loads 'em on the boat, then off the boat and then the nex time U C him he is wolfing down them groceries. Got us a kart to make my life easier, the pullin of that kart is what does it.
Yo Mama says, don't let them men be useless, just harness 'em to the load and point 'em in the right direction.
New on the market, are U canning it at home?
New on the market, are U canning it at home?
Originally uploaded by Annie Kaint Work No Mo.
What the h--- is goin on, my daughters gotta nuf green stuff to run a major faktery and here these folks of the Bahia Bahia are collectin, savin, cannin and selling this valuable stuff that we alredy got plenty of. Seems my almost-college-graduate and her baby sister the muther of Rufus and the stage prodigy, them daughters also known as "useless", could be puttin there minds and fingers 2 work producin a product much in demand by uthers. Want U to no I paid $5 American for this carmex size shit.
Yo Mama has spoken again
Clean and dry, clean and dry
Clean and dry, clean and dry
Originally uploaded by Annie Kaint Work No Mo.
Yo Mama don't hide her undies under the sheets and she don't hang on hooks to air out overnight. It was a BIG day on Wed. when my PO flew on a tacky little plane to his place of office to buy a bigger boat. Seems this 1 has the ice machine in an uncomfy spot and he wants more room to yell and scream.
Whilst he wuz gone I took the undies to
the big new machine to make 'em clean
and then spread 'em all over his bunk to dry. Sure wuz fun in the nite to wake up and stead of a grey head over there I be seeing lots of clean undies.
Rufus should be proud, I ain't useless.
Yo Mama has spoken
LUNCH BE-N SERVT AT NOON 2-DAY 4 ALL
I jes be servin notice that at noon 2-day there be
a cook-in with plente for all. It all started las
nite, when company be here, jes finishing up some
mitey good fried fresh red snapper fillets when The
Captain herd a strange noise. He jumpt to his poor
achin feet and ran for the hole-n-the-floor that
leads to (those willin to take the leap) what men-
of-the-water rever as The Engine Room. From there
he lept to the afterward stairs and strate to his
personal toilet room. I herd a scream and water
was ever-where. He then ran 4 my cooking pot
drawer and grabbed my favorite and only little
stewing pan and heded bak to the toilet room.
Seems Somebody (his terlet room) had put 2 much
paper in the facility and it stopped up and
was running over everwhere. Used my Favoite Little
Stewing Pot to dip that water out of the terlet.
YUK YUK YUK. The pot was returnet to the kitchen
and I keep lookin at it wundering just what to do.
So decided to make crap-wee soup. Wanna join us
4 lunch? Plente for all.
Took me back to WW2 when that famus man known as
Buda had an ole Studebaker car asitting in the
bak yard. Was the car he hauled off the 16 cats
in that day. Whenever he desided to change the
oil in thet ole car he would sneak in-2 the G-
Womans kitchen and get his faverite oil changin
pot and run 4 the yard. When the pan would show
up again the G-Woman would have a screamin-n-yellin
fit over it all. You no that pan 2-day as Buda's
popcorn pan, still setting in the G-Woman's cabnet
and is now round on the bottom stead of flat like
my now used-2-B-faveret stewing pan.
You may not believe yo mama, but thet was the very
cat delivery car that we wus cuming bak from
Galveston-on-the-ocean in 1 day when we had a big
damn blow-out of big proportions to 1 of the tires.
Buda looket it over and then jes got bak in the car
and we rode all the way home on the rim. Sure was
a bumpy ride and we got lots of looks from those
who past us. Dudden seem like Buda has been with
the Lord for sum 9 years now.
Youse girls need to get sum locks 4 ur cabenets
b-4 it is too late.
May-B Rufus cud tell the crap-wee stew storey
at bible kamp this week.
a cook-in with plente for all. It all started las
nite, when company be here, jes finishing up some
mitey good fried fresh red snapper fillets when The
Captain herd a strange noise. He jumpt to his poor
achin feet and ran for the hole-n-the-floor that
leads to (those willin to take the leap) what men-
of-the-water rever as The Engine Room. From there
he lept to the afterward stairs and strate to his
personal toilet room. I herd a scream and water
was ever-where. He then ran 4 my cooking pot
drawer and grabbed my favorite and only little
stewing pan and heded bak to the toilet room.
Seems Somebody (his terlet room) had put 2 much
paper in the facility and it stopped up and
was running over everwhere. Used my Favoite Little
Stewing Pot to dip that water out of the terlet.
YUK YUK YUK. The pot was returnet to the kitchen
and I keep lookin at it wundering just what to do.
So decided to make crap-wee soup. Wanna join us
4 lunch? Plente for all.
Took me back to WW2 when that famus man known as
Buda had an ole Studebaker car asitting in the
bak yard. Was the car he hauled off the 16 cats
in that day. Whenever he desided to change the
oil in thet ole car he would sneak in-2 the G-
Womans kitchen and get his faverite oil changin
pot and run 4 the yard. When the pan would show
up again the G-Woman would have a screamin-n-yellin
fit over it all. You no that pan 2-day as Buda's
popcorn pan, still setting in the G-Woman's cabnet
and is now round on the bottom stead of flat like
my now used-2-B-faveret stewing pan.
You may not believe yo mama, but thet was the very
cat delivery car that we wus cuming bak from
Galveston-on-the-ocean in 1 day when we had a big
damn blow-out of big proportions to 1 of the tires.
Buda looket it over and then jes got bak in the car
and we rode all the way home on the rim. Sure was
a bumpy ride and we got lots of looks from those
who past us. Dudden seem like Buda has been with
the Lord for sum 9 years now.
Youse girls need to get sum locks 4 ur cabenets
b-4 it is too late.
May-B Rufus cud tell the crap-wee stew storey
at bible kamp this week.
It is Proven: Cheese and Corn Dogs are Indeed Brain Food
Yes, today the official notifications came from the Texas Tech testing center........Matthew received a 97 on the 1st semester of 6th grade math and a 100 on the second semester. Now, don't go to thinkin' that us hillbillies out here in West Texas have a different math standard by which we live - that test was O-FISH-ALL!!!! Now let's just see what the school has to say, and what plan they can come up with for his class schedule for next year....
Another slap in the face for the GT Hags of the world.
Long live cheese and corndogs.......
Another slap in the face for the GT Hags of the world.
Long live cheese and corndogs.......
Friday, July 01, 2005
The Final Countdown: Part II
4: Number of times yon weary travellers were caught in the i-stream ("idiot stream": (def.) convergence of numerous unqualified heads-up-their-asses drivers in one stretch of highway, usually one lane going each way with no safety division zone whatsoever and usually being led by a "dammit the signs may say 70 but I'm from back in the day and I'll go not one inch over 60 and protect you all from yourselves since I know better" card carrying i-stream representative)
3: Number of pee stops on the journey home.
2: Number of times the emergency glass extraction technique had to be deployed due to Depressed dwarves ripping one in the back seat.
2: Number of ear infections treated.
1: Number of reports from Mama and her PO. Question: if you shoot a swimmin' pig for dinner will it sink before you can get your bass boat over to pick it up?
1: Number of new frozen treats discovered on the trip. Called: Lick-a-doozie. Shortcoming: Does not vibrate.
3: Number of pee stops on the journey home.
2: Number of times the emergency glass extraction technique had to be deployed due to Depressed dwarves ripping one in the back seat.
2: Number of ear infections treated.
1: Number of reports from Mama and her PO. Question: if you shoot a swimmin' pig for dinner will it sink before you can get your bass boat over to pick it up?
1: Number of new frozen treats discovered on the trip. Called: Lick-a-doozie. Shortcoming: Does not vibrate.
The Final Countdown: Part I
Newsweek or Time or one of those magazines that uses all the big words does a "by the numbers" sort of thing in each issue that presents statistics related to the recent news. I thought I would do the same for Fatty, Boudreaux, Rufus, and the Devil Dog Go to Drama Camp:
764: pages read by Fatty since she had no TV, phone, or consistent computer connection (I LOVE that!)
550: mileage driven between East and West Tex-us. Why do you people tawlk so funny out ther-uh?
201: pages of Harry Potter read by Boudreaux over a three-day period (take that you GT HAG!)
72: Number of times "are we there yet?" was uttered.
40: Approximate number of Jeeps spotted on to- and from- journeys. Most of these were east of I-35. 0: Number of Jeeps whose doors did not match their body paint (!).
22: Number of minutes required to weave through the normally deserted-because-everyone-is-at-the-corner-stop-in-breeding-with-their-bucktoothed-cousins-town, which has only one flashing yellow light. Reason for delay: annual polish pickle festival.
16: Number of rectal flatulation episodes instigated by Sir Haynuss del Hades and requiring the quick infusion of fresh oxygen through the emergency vehicle glass retraction man-oo-ver.
764: pages read by Fatty since she had no TV, phone, or consistent computer connection (I LOVE that!)
550: mileage driven between East and West Tex-us. Why do you people tawlk so funny out ther-uh?
201: pages of Harry Potter read by Boudreaux over a three-day period (take that you GT HAG!)
72: Number of times "are we there yet?" was uttered.
40: Approximate number of Jeeps spotted on to- and from- journeys. Most of these were east of I-35. 0: Number of Jeeps whose doors did not match their body paint (!).
22: Number of minutes required to weave through the normally deserted-because-everyone-is-at-the-corner-stop-in-breeding-with-their-bucktoothed-cousins-town, which has only one flashing yellow light. Reason for delay: annual polish pickle festival.
16: Number of rectal flatulation episodes instigated by Sir Haynuss del Hades and requiring the quick infusion of fresh oxygen through the emergency vehicle glass retraction man-oo-ver.
Thursday, June 30, 2005
Las Gringas COCHINAS!
DAMN SKIPPY!
Cat Crap and I got good and focused and decided that we would cook up our own enchilada sauce. Never mind that mine was powdered and came in a jar. (WHY WEREN'T WE CONSUMING BEVERAGE$ AS WE COOKED? Oh yeah, it was 10 AM. Why the hell did that stop us?)
Cat Crap's Sauce:
Decidedly spicy, with a hint of tomato.
Fatty's Sauce:
Toasted with a milder flavor and prepared in less than 5 minutes from some powder and oil.
Nex stop "Fatty and Moo-moo's Tamale Shack." Cat Crap: have you ordered that tamale maker yet? I need to take my savings and go to Vegas so I can afford one.
Cat Crap and I got good and focused and decided that we would cook up our own enchilada sauce. Never mind that mine was powdered and came in a jar. (WHY WEREN'T WE CONSUMING BEVERAGE$ AS WE COOKED? Oh yeah, it was 10 AM. Why the hell did that stop us?)
Cat Crap's Sauce:
Decidedly spicy, with a hint of tomato.
Fatty's Sauce:
Toasted with a milder flavor and prepared in less than 5 minutes from some powder and oil.
Nex stop "Fatty and Moo-moo's Tamale Shack." Cat Crap: have you ordered that tamale maker yet? I need to take my savings and go to Vegas so I can afford one.
What I Found Between the Sheets
Please check my eBay store soon. Search under "My_Mama_Wears_a_Bony_Bra.com"
I am scared (pronounced "skerred" in East Texas) to know what sort of S&M factory this came from.
I am scared (pronounced "skerred" in East Texas) to know what sort of S&M factory this came from.
Chapter 7:
Fatty Demands an Apology and Then Writes a Play
So we had a very nice time visiting Cat Crap and the gang for a WHOLE WEEK. For posterior's sake, I will convey the basic punchline of Rufus activity here:
Our scene opens as Boudreaux is behind the curtain, getting into position, breaking a leg, checking his grease-paint beard, and preparing for his off-off-off-off-off-off-off-off-off Broadway debut as the "Short-Person-in-a-Yellow-Tshirt-and-the-Pointlessly-Purcachased-One-Dollar-Girls'-Overalls-Found-at-the-Local-Goodwill", aka the Depressed Dwarf.
Highly ironic behind-the-scenes fact that is highly amusing to our audience but completely un-bee-now-n-st to our primary actors: one of those damn karma culminations is about to erupt in the west-texas-theater-that-has-the-best-damn-accoustics-I-ever-done-heard.
Back flash, in the truest Homeric style...to earlier that week...the four-year-old announces to his dear Auntie with no provocation...
Rufus: "Aunt Choc, My Momma is mean...she's just plain mean."
Cat-Crap-Who-is-Known-by-Many-Names: "Doesn't your Mom do a lot of nice things for you?"
R: "Sometimes, but usually, she's just plain mean."
Transition to earlier that day...with that blurry effect like on Wayne's World (which, by the way, ruined it for me: I cannot stand Kee-an-u Reeves...he is Ted or Bill or whoever with the dumbass Cali-for-neye-uh accent):
R: "Aunt Choc, my Dad is just plain useless."
Cat Crap: "What do you mean?"
R: "Well, he doesn't do anything. He's just useless. Come to think of it, my whole family is useless."
Fade back to real time: The lovely remi-nis-ence is over and here we return back to the theater, with Boudreaux waiting on curtain call, and Fatty reacting, having just been fully informed as to what various mean and useless conversations have been taking place. Fatty cannot help herself. It is embedded in her blood and very being...
Fatty whispers to Rufus: "So, I hear that you say I'm useless and mean."
R: "Yep."
F (still whispering): "I'll show you mean and useless."
R (displays in-quiz-ee-tiv look)
F (whispers): "What are you going to do when I stop washing your underwear?"
R (In a thunderous voice, like the tolling of the bells in that book about the fish with the idiot man, the lion, and the nurse, and loud enough to hear on the back row):
"I WILL FART IN YOUR PANTIES."
Our scene opens as Boudreaux is behind the curtain, getting into position, breaking a leg, checking his grease-paint beard, and preparing for his off-off-off-off-off-off-off-off-off Broadway debut as the "Short-Person-in-a-Yellow-Tshirt-and-the-Pointlessly-Purcachased-One-Dollar-Girls'-Overalls-Found-at-the-Local-Goodwill", aka the Depressed Dwarf.
Highly ironic behind-the-scenes fact that is highly amusing to our audience but completely un-bee-now-n-st to our primary actors: one of those damn karma culminations is about to erupt in the west-texas-theater-that-has-the-best-damn-accoustics-I-ever-done-heard.
Back flash, in the truest Homeric style...to earlier that week...the four-year-old announces to his dear Auntie with no provocation...
Rufus: "Aunt Choc, My Momma is mean...she's just plain mean."
Cat-Crap-Who-is-Known-by-Many-Names: "Doesn't your Mom do a lot of nice things for you?"
R: "Sometimes, but usually, she's just plain mean."
Transition to earlier that day...with that blurry effect like on Wayne's World (which, by the way, ruined it for me: I cannot stand Kee-an-u Reeves...he is Ted or Bill or whoever with the dumbass Cali-for-neye-uh accent):
R: "Aunt Choc, my Dad is just plain useless."
Cat Crap: "What do you mean?"
R: "Well, he doesn't do anything. He's just useless. Come to think of it, my whole family is useless."
Fade back to real time: The lovely remi-nis-ence is over and here we return back to the theater, with Boudreaux waiting on curtain call, and Fatty reacting, having just been fully informed as to what various mean and useless conversations have been taking place. Fatty cannot help herself. It is embedded in her blood and very being...
Fatty whispers to Rufus: "So, I hear that you say I'm useless and mean."
R: "Yep."
F (still whispering): "I'll show you mean and useless."
R (displays in-quiz-ee-tiv look)
F (whispers): "What are you going to do when I stop washing your underwear?"
R (In a thunderous voice, like the tolling of the bells in that book about the fish with the idiot man, the lion, and the nurse, and loud enough to hear on the back row):
"I WILL FART IN YOUR PANTIES."
Midnight Musings
Sittin' on my butt in my plastic rockin chair.....
Wishin' that my pussy would stop sheddin' all its hair....
Had a healthy dinner of tater tots and tea....
Won't sleep good tonight cause i'm sure i'll have to pee....
Feelin kind of grumpy, and I don't know where to start....
Guess I'll scratch my butt and let out a little fart....
[pause]
Now I'm feelin better so I'll write a little more....
Before I get my monkey and head upstairs to snore....
Two more weeks till Vegas and I hope I win the pot....
So I can buy the new appliance that I really want alot....
And if I do then you can know that tamales will be brewin....
And in just a few short minutes you will see them extra-udin....
Those suckers will be shootin out like poop from Rufus' hiney....
And I'll serve them up with Ritas that are green and cold and limey....
Life will be so good and I will curl up with my cat....
And buy myself some moo-moos so I continue being fat.
Wishin' that my pussy would stop sheddin' all its hair....
Had a healthy dinner of tater tots and tea....
Won't sleep good tonight cause i'm sure i'll have to pee....
Feelin kind of grumpy, and I don't know where to start....
Guess I'll scratch my butt and let out a little fart....
[pause]
Now I'm feelin better so I'll write a little more....
Before I get my monkey and head upstairs to snore....
Two more weeks till Vegas and I hope I win the pot....
So I can buy the new appliance that I really want alot....
And if I do then you can know that tamales will be brewin....
And in just a few short minutes you will see them extra-udin....
Those suckers will be shootin out like poop from Rufus' hiney....
And I'll serve them up with Ritas that are green and cold and limey....
Life will be so good and I will curl up with my cat....
And buy myself some moo-moos so I continue being fat.
ARE YOU AS BORED AS I AM?
If the answer to this question is "yes", then check out this fun new game I found:
http://www.lilgames.com/acne_zit_popper_game.shtml
Wish they would come up with an ass verson......
http://www.lilgames.com/acne_zit_popper_game.shtml
Wish they would come up with an ass verson......
Is the lectricity out in the trailer park???????
What the hell goin on in here?
Are the lights out in the trailer park? Did you computer get re-poss-assed? Did the devil dog eat your keyboard? Are you being held hostage by small boys? Are ya sittin' on the toilet waitin for a rainbow???? GET YOUR ASS ON YOUR COMPUTER AND ENTERTAIN ME!!!!!!!!
Don't you know I have no life and you are my sole source of entertainment????
Signed,
Ruby in Trailer #2
Are the lights out in the trailer park? Did you computer get re-poss-assed? Did the devil dog eat your keyboard? Are you being held hostage by small boys? Are ya sittin' on the toilet waitin for a rainbow???? GET YOUR ASS ON YOUR COMPUTER AND ENTERTAIN ME!!!!!!!!
Don't you know I have no life and you are my sole source of entertainment????
Signed,
Ruby in Trailer #2
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
Current Threat Level: Elevated
Rufus and Cat Crap have been discussing bodily functions, and Rufus now has a handy dandy color-coded system for how to interpret all extrusions. He can recite this word-for-word and is just chomping at the bit for the first show-and-tell day of the 2005 preschool season:
If it's yellow, let it mellow.
If it's brown, flush it down.
If it's green, check your spleen.
If it's red, you're dead.
If it's pink, it stinks!
If it's black, put it back.
If it's gold, it's old.
If it's silver...take it to the bank.
As "she who birthed the mouth," I get a 10% cut off any valuable deposits!
If it's yellow, let it mellow.
If it's brown, flush it down.
If it's green, check your spleen.
If it's red, you're dead.
If it's pink, it stinks!
If it's black, put it back.
If it's gold, it's old.
If it's silver...take it to the bank.
As "she who birthed the mouth," I get a 10% cut off any valuable deposits!
Wisdom of Rufus #621
Rufus:
Well, MOTHER, you KNOW that God and Jesus created everythng.
Except the roads. People built the roads.
Fatty:
Well, then, where did everything else come from?
Rufus:
Walmart.
Well, MOTHER, you KNOW that God and Jesus created everythng.
Except the roads. People built the roads.
Fatty:
Well, then, where did everything else come from?
Rufus:
Walmart.
Monday, June 20, 2005
Wisdom of Rufus #618
Dear God: Thank you for helping us know which paths lead us home.
(Posted by Fatty using Cat Crap's account)
(Posted by Fatty using Cat Crap's account)
Friday, June 17, 2005
Great Ba'Hai!
What the Hell is FATTY OXIDATION?
Those sneaky google people make specially designed ads show up on your web pages. This was one was linked to mine today:
Fatty Oxidation Disorders
So if Fatty is Oxidized, then does that mean I've been huffin' and puffin' too much? Does it mean that Rufus's constant oral ruminations have depleted my brain of air?
The cure for Fatty's Oxidation must be for everyone to just shut up. I'd say that a good ol shower or a cold beer would help out, too.
Fatty Oxidation Disorders
So if Fatty is Oxidized, then does that mean I've been huffin' and puffin' too much? Does it mean that Rufus's constant oral ruminations have depleted my brain of air?
The cure for Fatty's Oxidation must be for everyone to just shut up. I'd say that a good ol shower or a cold beer would help out, too.
and lo there was swimming pigs
and lo there was swimming pigs
Originally uploaded by Annie Kaint Work No Mo.
The Word of the Lord: and the meek shall inherit the earth. How U gonna feel when them hoggies get 2 vote jes like U do? Mite be sooner than U think. They tell me they ain't swimmin til they sees food a-floating in the water. Wonner if Lucy would like to take a lil swim?
Yo Mama has spoken
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Opus 615: [Untitled]
HEY CAT CRAP!
How 'bout a rap?
Open up yer cavity
And let yer lips flap!
HEY CAT CRAP!
What's up with that?
Yank off yer girdle
And put on yer hat!
HEY CAT CRAP!
Ready with the cart?
Cause we're headed right for ya,
Fatty, Boudreaux, and The Tart!
HEY CAT CRAP!
Don't throw a fit.
Just take a drink and give a scratch
To yer ol Peety Pit!
HEY CAT CRAP!
Who loves ya, Sis?
If you'd post some poetry,
I wouldn't have to post this!
HEY CAT CRAP!
How 'bout a rap?
Open up yer cavity
And let yer lips flap!
How 'bout a rap?
Open up yer cavity
And let yer lips flap!
HEY CAT CRAP!
What's up with that?
Yank off yer girdle
And put on yer hat!
HEY CAT CRAP!
Ready with the cart?
Cause we're headed right for ya,
Fatty, Boudreaux, and The Tart!
HEY CAT CRAP!
Don't throw a fit.
Just take a drink and give a scratch
To yer ol Peety Pit!
HEY CAT CRAP!
Who loves ya, Sis?
If you'd post some poetry,
I wouldn't have to post this!
HEY CAT CRAP!
How 'bout a rap?
Open up yer cavity
And let yer lips flap!
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Walmart and God's Revenge: The Hairy Peety Pit
I don't know about you, but I had Hallmark Card visions of how the big birds-n-bees discussion would happen with my children:
We would be laying in bed, having just finished a peaceful before-bedtime story about how Ba'hai defeated the Devil Dog with nothing but a ball of yarn and a spork, when a sweet angellic face would gaze up to me with wondering, trusting eyes and say, "Dear Mother, Where do babies come from?" And of course, I would a handle the whole situation with a plum and a graceful coop de grass. And everyone would sleep and be quiet and I would go drink a large beer mug full of Strawberry Hill. And of course, this wouldn't happen until the child was 17 or 18.
But like most things in list (re: the karma thing discussed below), you can't plan for it.
There we were at 3 PM on an unusually-hot-June-afternoon in the parking lot of a Super Wal-mart. A place that should be avoided at all costs whenever possible. I had just walked out of the sliding doors to hell, with two boys and some groceries packed into one of those Mac trucks that they provide for "super breeders" with more than one child, the ones with that whole back area devoted to wrapping and strapping children so the Mini-Me's cannot escape while I'm studying various scents of deoderant. The basket is heavy on its own. Add groceries and 100 pounds of hellions-in-training, turn the heater on full blast, and spray some "ode to an armpit" air freshener, and you have the picture.
As I am pushing this load out to the car, trying not to him-ridge brain cells, Boudreaux turns and asks,
"Mom, where do babies come from?"
Fatty: (silence)
[Fatty's Panicked Brain: If I ignore this, it will go away.]
B: "I said, Mom, where do babies come from?"
[FPB: Stork? Magic? Twinkies? GOOD GOD HELP ME!]
B: "Mom, why aren't you answering me?"
F: "Babies come from their mother's tummies."
B: "I know that. But how do they get there?"
[FPB: How can I make this easy? Can't I lie?!?]
F: "From an egg inside the mommy."
B: "I KNOW THAT. But how does it turn into a baby?"
[FPB: Sweet Jesus! Do we really have to have this conversation in the Walmart parking lot, right here with the grease spots and the open McDonald's cups and the nasty old black birds and the hicks in their overalls with no shirts and the heat and the groceries and is this what death is going to be like I'm just going to have a heart attack in the Walmart parking lot and die here in the sun, right here in the most un-graceful, noxious place in the universe? is this really where these moments have to happen? oh well, you get what you get and you don't throw a friggin' fit.]
F: "The Daddy has some special stuff that makes the egg turn into a baby."
[FPB: Whew! That was good. Now maybe he'll shut up and ruminate on that for a while.]
B: "Okay, but how does that get to the egg?"
[FPB: WWBD! WHAT WOULD BUMPUS DO?!? Bumpus would get a napkin from the bar and draw a diagram and then he would laugh and drink his beer and life would be okay. So where is the bar? where...is...THE...BEER?]
F: "The Daddy puts the stuff inside the Mommy?"
B: "Right, but how?"
[FPB: AAAAAaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhhh!]
F: "He uses his Peety."
[FPB: Ha! That'll fix em. Now they both have something to think about (Rufus has been listening intently so he can repeat this at vacation bible school). I've shocked them with my stealthy frankness and now they'll leave me alone.]
B: "But HOW does he use his Peety?"
[FPB: GOOD GOD IS THERE NO MERCY?]
F: "He puts his Peety inside the Mommy."
(Seriously questioning looks from both Boudreaux and Rufus)
[FPB: A HA! Take THAT!]
B: "Where?"
F: "Through an opening in her bottom."
B: (silence)
F: "You know...girls don't have Peetys."
B and R: "HAAAAAAAA haaaa haaa! Girls don't have Peetys! Can you buh-leeve it?!?"
B: "Then how do girls go to the bathroom?"
[FPB: And lo, I am defeated...I will succumb and provide all requested information in audience-appropriate terms.]
F: "Girls have three areas on their bottoms: one for tee-tee, one for poop, and one for babies."
B: "But how does that work with the Daddy?"
F: "Well, the Mommy's part is sort of inverted, on the inside, so it sort of matches up with the Dad's peety."
Rufus: "And it's called THE HAIRY PEETY PIT!"
And yea, my suffering was ending by raw-kus laughter, the repeated screaming of "MOMMY's GOT A HAIRY PEETY PIT," and the chance to put my groceries in the car.
We would be laying in bed, having just finished a peaceful before-bedtime story about how Ba'hai defeated the Devil Dog with nothing but a ball of yarn and a spork, when a sweet angellic face would gaze up to me with wondering, trusting eyes and say, "Dear Mother, Where do babies come from?" And of course, I would a handle the whole situation with a plum and a graceful coop de grass. And everyone would sleep and be quiet and I would go drink a large beer mug full of Strawberry Hill. And of course, this wouldn't happen until the child was 17 or 18.
But like most things in list (re: the karma thing discussed below), you can't plan for it.
There we were at 3 PM on an unusually-hot-June-afternoon in the parking lot of a Super Wal-mart. A place that should be avoided at all costs whenever possible. I had just walked out of the sliding doors to hell, with two boys and some groceries packed into one of those Mac trucks that they provide for "super breeders" with more than one child, the ones with that whole back area devoted to wrapping and strapping children so the Mini-Me's cannot escape while I'm studying various scents of deoderant. The basket is heavy on its own. Add groceries and 100 pounds of hellions-in-training, turn the heater on full blast, and spray some "ode to an armpit" air freshener, and you have the picture.
As I am pushing this load out to the car, trying not to him-ridge brain cells, Boudreaux turns and asks,
"Mom, where do babies come from?"
Fatty: (silence)
[Fatty's Panicked Brain: If I ignore this, it will go away.]
B: "I said, Mom, where do babies come from?"
[FPB: Stork? Magic? Twinkies? GOOD GOD HELP ME!]
B: "Mom, why aren't you answering me?"
F: "Babies come from their mother's tummies."
B: "I know that. But how do they get there?"
[FPB: How can I make this easy? Can't I lie?!?]
F: "From an egg inside the mommy."
B: "I KNOW THAT. But how does it turn into a baby?"
[FPB: Sweet Jesus! Do we really have to have this conversation in the Walmart parking lot, right here with the grease spots and the open McDonald's cups and the nasty old black birds and the hicks in their overalls with no shirts and the heat and the groceries and is this what death is going to be like I'm just going to have a heart attack in the Walmart parking lot and die here in the sun, right here in the most un-graceful, noxious place in the universe? is this really where these moments have to happen? oh well, you get what you get and you don't throw a friggin' fit.]
F: "The Daddy has some special stuff that makes the egg turn into a baby."
[FPB: Whew! That was good. Now maybe he'll shut up and ruminate on that for a while.]
B: "Okay, but how does that get to the egg?"
[FPB: WWBD! WHAT WOULD BUMPUS DO?!? Bumpus would get a napkin from the bar and draw a diagram and then he would laugh and drink his beer and life would be okay. So where is the bar? where...is...THE...BEER?]
F: "The Daddy puts the stuff inside the Mommy?"
B: "Right, but how?"
[FPB: AAAAAaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhhh!]
F: "He uses his Peety."
[FPB: Ha! That'll fix em. Now they both have something to think about (Rufus has been listening intently so he can repeat this at vacation bible school). I've shocked them with my stealthy frankness and now they'll leave me alone.]
B: "But HOW does he use his Peety?"
[FPB: GOOD GOD IS THERE NO MERCY?]
F: "He puts his Peety inside the Mommy."
(Seriously questioning looks from both Boudreaux and Rufus)
[FPB: A HA! Take THAT!]
B: "Where?"
F: "Through an opening in her bottom."
B: (silence)
F: "You know...girls don't have Peetys."
B and R: "HAAAAAAAA haaaa haaa! Girls don't have Peetys! Can you buh-leeve it?!?"
B: "Then how do girls go to the bathroom?"
[FPB: And lo, I am defeated...I will succumb and provide all requested information in audience-appropriate terms.]
F: "Girls have three areas on their bottoms: one for tee-tee, one for poop, and one for babies."
B: "But how does that work with the Daddy?"
F: "Well, the Mommy's part is sort of inverted, on the inside, so it sort of matches up with the Dad's peety."
Rufus: "And it's called THE HAIRY PEETY PIT!"
And yea, my suffering was ending by raw-kus laughter, the repeated screaming of "MOMMY's GOT A HAIRY PEETY PIT," and the chance to put my groceries in the car.
Sunday, June 12, 2005
Boudreaux...Look at the Size Uh Them Feet!
No, actually he looks like his Daddy. Don't you think so, Bumpus?
Don't Jus Sit There Waitin, Ain't Gonna Happen
I got my good ole digital and went to the rear end of the
fishing boat and askt Barbie iffin I could photograph her
dog with no hair and she said Matey as taken her a.m. nap.
Then The Captain and his buddy on the other boat decides
to move us to a more uptown location, so we pulled up and
untied them ropes and here we are at Sampson Cay. So youse
won't be seeing any pikture of Barbie and Matey unless they
have the poor taste to follow us here. Barbie's boat name
was "Terri's Sea Cret". For a minit though she meant Sucret.
Wonner what her sea-cret is anyway.
Also parked next to us at the former place was a sudden
arrival new neighbor from Pray, MT. Name of that boat was
"Evy's Angel II". Thought I had it made. Soon as they
stopped that big 58' tub they started their washing and ran
3 loads right quick, all the soap came our way. I hollered
to my friend Patty "Hallelujah, my problems are solved. I
don't have to be hikin up the hill with my dirty clothes no
more, a laundromat has moved into the neighborhood." Patty
quickly shut her door. Heck, I don't be caring if I insult
the laundromat - I just wanting some help with all the dirty
clothes and towels that The Captain keeps churning out.
We're now parked on our water-based 5th wheel at a place
called Sampson Cay. The water is too beautiful to believe
and the folks here got some class. Guess that means I have
to start wearing my nice boatin clothes stead of the stained,
ripped and too-little ones. Still gonna wear my [special] hat
when I have to do [special] chores. My goal is 2 self-photo
me with my hat and put it here so you kin know what I look
like as a washer woman, maid, cook, dishwasher, cleaning
woman.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX yo mama
fishing boat and askt Barbie iffin I could photograph her
dog with no hair and she said Matey as taken her a.m. nap.
Then The Captain and his buddy on the other boat decides
to move us to a more uptown location, so we pulled up and
untied them ropes and here we are at Sampson Cay. So youse
won't be seeing any pikture of Barbie and Matey unless they
have the poor taste to follow us here. Barbie's boat name
was "Terri's Sea Cret". For a minit though she meant Sucret.
Wonner what her sea-cret is anyway.
Also parked next to us at the former place was a sudden
arrival new neighbor from Pray, MT. Name of that boat was
"Evy's Angel II". Thought I had it made. Soon as they
stopped that big 58' tub they started their washing and ran
3 loads right quick, all the soap came our way. I hollered
to my friend Patty "Hallelujah, my problems are solved. I
don't have to be hikin up the hill with my dirty clothes no
more, a laundromat has moved into the neighborhood." Patty
quickly shut her door. Heck, I don't be caring if I insult
the laundromat - I just wanting some help with all the dirty
clothes and towels that The Captain keeps churning out.
We're now parked on our water-based 5th wheel at a place
called Sampson Cay. The water is too beautiful to believe
and the folks here got some class. Guess that means I have
to start wearing my nice boatin clothes stead of the stained,
ripped and too-little ones. Still gonna wear my [special] hat
when I have to do [special] chores. My goal is 2 self-photo
me with my hat and put it here so you kin know what I look
like as a washer woman, maid, cook, dishwasher, cleaning
woman.
XXXXXXXXXXXXX yo mama
El Chuck Roast del Beelzebub!
Well, that Minnie Pearl of the Cat World may win the beauty contest, but our local haus de hades has taken up extreme sports. SO THERE!
Saturday, June 11, 2005
Yo Mama Is Here and She is Pissed
Here I was asittin here mindin my own biz when a tall
skinny fishing boat with a high-up-tuna-tower on top
of it moved from one boat spot to another and plopped
right in front of my north-bound doorway. To top it
all off the inhabitants include a Barbie doll with long
stringy blond tresses pulled threw her boatin hat and a
head held in just the same position as Barbie does. On
the boat also in a swarthy man in a black Euro skinny
bathing suit and he is certain he The Gift To The World.
Got a sheep dog too, with a summer haircut like Lucy
has. Lucy does not like the sheep dog and she barks at
it whether it be there or not. I'll try to get some
photos to go along with this new-neighbor-scenario. Will
find out also if they have a blog so we kin get to know
them better. Not tellin 'em my real name, but the parole
officer wears his name all day ever day on his shirt so
he kin remember who he is so they already got that impor
tant info. Won't give 'em your names tho. More to follow.
Yo Mama
skinny fishing boat with a high-up-tuna-tower on top
of it moved from one boat spot to another and plopped
right in front of my north-bound doorway. To top it
all off the inhabitants include a Barbie doll with long
stringy blond tresses pulled threw her boatin hat and a
head held in just the same position as Barbie does. On
the boat also in a swarthy man in a black Euro skinny
bathing suit and he is certain he The Gift To The World.
Got a sheep dog too, with a summer haircut like Lucy
has. Lucy does not like the sheep dog and she barks at
it whether it be there or not. I'll try to get some
photos to go along with this new-neighbor-scenario. Will
find out also if they have a blog so we kin get to know
them better. Not tellin 'em my real name, but the parole
officer wears his name all day ever day on his shirt so
he kin remember who he is so they already got that impor
tant info. Won't give 'em your names tho. More to follow.
Yo Mama
Friday, June 10, 2005
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
Monday, June 06, 2005
Ch 6, Lesson 8:
Go Ba'hai Yerself,
O' Ye Negatively Bouyant
Beast of the Netherworld!
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.
Ch 6, Lesson 7:
And Lo, He Laid His Eyes Upon Me and
Steadied Himself for the Kill
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.
Ch 6, Lesson 6:
Pre-teen boys do strange things. Like get the swing going as high as they can, fly out, and land flat on their faces in the dirt. Over and over again.
I am pretty sure of two things: (1) this one had been temporarily excommunicated from his family's trailer and (2) his Rit'lin needed an adjustment.
I am pretty sure of two things: (1) this one had been temporarily excommunicated from his family's trailer and (2) his Rit'lin needed an adjustment.
Ch 6, Lesson 5:
Camper covetting is mortal sin number 8.
I've sent Rufus and Beaudreax to the Baptist Vacation Bible School in order to repent, after a strict lecture to Rufus about "things we ONLY talk about at home and things we talk about in public."
I've sent Rufus and Beaudreax to the Baptist Vacation Bible School in order to repent, after a strict lecture to Rufus about "things we ONLY talk about at home and things we talk about in public."
Ch 6, Lesson 4:
Back in them stoner ages, when everyone had long hair, ran around necked, and ate mary-ju-wanna brownies, those Dutch people must have lived in Texas, because one of 'em left their shoes behind.
Ch 6, Lesson 3:
Girls in low riders should stay away from see-saws.
Rufus's comment: "Look ma! You can almost see clear down to her rectal cavity!"
Rufus's comment: "Look ma! You can almost see clear down to her rectal cavity!"
Ch 6, Lesson 2:
An inverse relationship exists between the length of the tongue and the size of the jowls.
Too bad the same inversion does not apply to my boobs and my jowls.
Too bad the same inversion does not apply to my boobs and my jowls.
Chapter 6: Lessons Fatty Learned
Lesson #1:
Even a highly edge-y-kated park ranger cannot tell the diff'rnce between a Coke and a Tecate with fresh lime, even in broad day light.
This and the following lessons may not be in the least amount amusing, but since I have in the mean time decided that this family blog will be my children's in-hairy-tense, I guess I better post something. Besides that, Mama's off on that two and a half month bass fishing trip with her parole officer, and she might want to know what's going on back here in the swamp.
Even a highly edge-y-kated park ranger cannot tell the diff'rnce between a Coke and a Tecate with fresh lime, even in broad day light.
This and the following lessons may not be in the least amount amusing, but since I have in the mean time decided that this family blog will be my children's in-hairy-tense, I guess I better post something. Besides that, Mama's off on that two and a half month bass fishing trip with her parole officer, and she might want to know what's going on back here in the swamp.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Feed the Monkey, Watch Him ____.
At some point the Ba'hai of a good old "Karma done come around the corner and give you a taste of your own medicine" always kicks in. You may escape it for a good long while, but eventually it creeps up on you just like a pair of K-mart drawers that done shrunk up two sizes in the dryer.
A sum total of many previous discussions collided in a big cosmic bang of karma bitin' today:
Factor #1:
Chili days.
No one in my family ever wants to eat the same thing at the same time, so when I make a big ol crock pot of chili and beans, no one else will eat it but me. So it's 102 degrees outside? Turn down the AC and get me a spoon. So you know what happens when you've been eating chili and beans for three meals a day for three days.
Factor #1A:
Genetics.
My family has a lot of gas, from pull-my-finger-Dad to whew!-then-I-looked-at-that-lady-behind-me-in-the-line-at-Dillard's-like-she-did-it-Mom, we are all literally and metaphorically "full of beans."
Factor #2:
Walter.
If you have read the book that I posted as my first FBC selection, then no further explanation is necessary.
Factor #3:
Aunt Kreenel.
Aunt Kreenel, we love you. You are smart and you never talk down to my two little pink necks. You may not be fully aware of the duration and capacity for detail that the youngest possesses. He is truly the grandson of Lumpy Bananabrain.
Factor #4:
Air temperature.
Did you ever notice that methane (that would be "rectal flatulence" to you, Walter) smells worse when the air is warmer? I have a whole list of questions about toots, just waiting on the right expert to answer. That's a whole other discussion.
Factor #5:
Human growth patterns.
Rufus is now about 42 inches tall, which makes him too short to ride the Texas Titan, but just the right height for his nose to reach the business end of my booty when he gives me one of his big ol Rufus monster-leg-gripping-hug-o-fames from the back.
Factor #6:
Keep track of Mama.
Children under the age of 5 must always, at every moment, know the location of she-who-provides-the-chocolate-Ovaltine. Any attempt to go to the bathroom, talk on the phone, or take something up to the storage room will be immediately sabotaged.
Slam factors #1-6 together an here is what you get:
Today, I had to take something up to the storage room, which is over the garage and always a warm, muggy place in the summer. While up there--presumably by myself, I might add--I might have had to come to terms with the consequences a diet of chili and beans. So I "let it fly" and turned to set down what I was carrying.
Next thing I know, Rufus has run up the stairs, pretending to chase the cat, but really just making sure that I haven't endangered my Ovaltine-stirring hand. He runs three steps past me, stops, and says,
"Who farted?"
"Might have been me," I mumbled.
He turns around, runs up behind me, throws his arms around my legs in a death grip, hugs me tight, and sticks his nose right at ground zero...
"What are you doing?!?" I asked.
"Checking to see if that smell came out of your rectal cavity."
"Well, what do you think?"
"I think you need to put on new underwear."
A sum total of many previous discussions collided in a big cosmic bang of karma bitin' today:
Factor #1:
Chili days.
No one in my family ever wants to eat the same thing at the same time, so when I make a big ol crock pot of chili and beans, no one else will eat it but me. So it's 102 degrees outside? Turn down the AC and get me a spoon. So you know what happens when you've been eating chili and beans for three meals a day for three days.
Factor #1A:
Genetics.
My family has a lot of gas, from pull-my-finger-Dad to whew!-then-I-looked-at-that-lady-behind-me-in-the-line-at-Dillard's-like-she-did-it-Mom, we are all literally and metaphorically "full of beans."
Factor #2:
Walter.
If you have read the book that I posted as my first FBC selection, then no further explanation is necessary.
Factor #3:
Aunt Kreenel.
Aunt Kreenel, we love you. You are smart and you never talk down to my two little pink necks. You may not be fully aware of the duration and capacity for detail that the youngest possesses. He is truly the grandson of Lumpy Bananabrain.
Factor #4:
Air temperature.
Did you ever notice that methane (that would be "rectal flatulence" to you, Walter) smells worse when the air is warmer? I have a whole list of questions about toots, just waiting on the right expert to answer. That's a whole other discussion.
Factor #5:
Human growth patterns.
Rufus is now about 42 inches tall, which makes him too short to ride the Texas Titan, but just the right height for his nose to reach the business end of my booty when he gives me one of his big ol Rufus monster-leg-gripping-hug-o-fames from the back.
Factor #6:
Keep track of Mama.
Children under the age of 5 must always, at every moment, know the location of she-who-provides-the-chocolate-Ovaltine. Any attempt to go to the bathroom, talk on the phone, or take something up to the storage room will be immediately sabotaged.
Slam factors #1-6 together an here is what you get:
Today, I had to take something up to the storage room, which is over the garage and always a warm, muggy place in the summer. While up there--presumably by myself, I might add--I might have had to come to terms with the consequences a diet of chili and beans. So I "let it fly" and turned to set down what I was carrying.
Next thing I know, Rufus has run up the stairs, pretending to chase the cat, but really just making sure that I haven't endangered my Ovaltine-stirring hand. He runs three steps past me, stops, and says,
"Who farted?"
"Might have been me," I mumbled.
He turns around, runs up behind me, throws his arms around my legs in a death grip, hugs me tight, and sticks his nose right at ground zero...
"What are you doing?!?" I asked.
"Checking to see if that smell came out of your rectal cavity."
"Well, what do you think?"
"I think you need to put on new underwear."
Note to Jack......
When dealing when a thermometer and various body cavities, it is important to remember that if it has been inserted into the rectal cavity, it is a good idea to WASH it before inserting it into the oral cavity.
Love,
Aunt Choc, D.D.S.
Love,
Aunt Choc, D.D.S.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
The Wisdom of Rufus #402
You have at least two cavities:
An oral cavity and a rectal cavity.
When the doctor asks which
to put the thermometer in,
You better go for one up top.
Yes, Rufus is really 4, and yes, he really told someone this today.
NOTE to AUNT KREENEL:
I WILL SEND HIS PRE-SCHOOL TEACHER YOUR CONTACT INFORMATION FOR FURTHER DISCUSSION.
Toe Knee Chest Nut
Yesterday was Boudreaux's end-of-the-year-gather-all-the-parents-and-little-screamin'-snot-nosed-siblings-and-sit-in-the-auditorium-while-we-entertain-you-with-Raffi-originals program at school. The first musical number is now stuck in my head and I have been walking around singing it for 28.45 hours, yes, even in my sleep.
Pick your tune and sing along:
Toe knee chest nut nose eye love you.
Toe knee knows.
Toe knee know.
Toe knee chest nut nose I love you.
Only toe knee nose.
Toe knee, toe knee
and his sister, I lean
And I lean loves kneel
and kneel loves pat
but pat still loves bob.
And there's russel and skip
this song is silly, but it's hip
How it ends, just one man knows
And guess what?
It's Toe Knee Chest Nut.
Pick your tune and sing along:
Toe knee chest nut nose eye love you.
Toe knee knows.
Toe knee know.
Toe knee chest nut nose I love you.
Only toe knee nose.
Toe knee, toe knee
and his sister, I lean
And I lean loves kneel
and kneel loves pat
but pat still loves bob.
And there's russel and skip
this song is silly, but it's hip
How it ends, just one man knows
And guess what?
It's Toe Knee Chest Nut.
Happy Birthday to ME.
http://www.thecauldronshop.com/product.php?cid=18&p=4
I just bought myself one of these shirts. Unfortunately, they do not come in Rufus and Boudreaux sizes. Looks like it's time get out the iron-on supplies.
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
Chapter 5: It was a Dark and Steamy Night
Last weekend we took the pop-a-top and crossed the cultural boundaries of Interstate 35 in order to do some camping at Perdinales (that's perty-nah-lees for you east Texans) Falls State Park. Last week, the daily high temps were in the mid-80's. Saturday it was 102 degrees at the park. Thank the lord we had ice cold beverages, although we were sternly warned against displaying or consuming them in public. That's why god invented those little teeny brown paper bags anyway, right?
Damn skippy and ba'hai.
Although I didn't take an snazzy pictures of the Devil Dog on this trip (it was at the pound...I mean VET...anyway), I do have the following to offer:
Fatty's Top 6 Lessons Learned on the Perty-Nah-Lees Trip
Damn skippy and ba'hai.
Although I didn't take an snazzy pictures of the Devil Dog on this trip (it was at the pound...I mean VET...anyway), I do have the following to offer:
Fatty's Top 6 Lessons Learned on the Perty-Nah-Lees Trip
- Chocolate sheet cake doesn't stay solid in temperatures over 96 degrees.
- "River shoes" aren't just a summer fashion statement. They are actually a NECESSITY to avoid slick rocks and hot sand.
- Some kind of dragonfly larva lives under water, even in fast-moving rivers with rapids, and likes to bite unsuspecting tourists on the butts.
- Ours is the only renegade pop-up on earth without a built-in air-conditioner.
- Travel bingo is much more fun if you yell a lot while playing it.
- Small boys like one thing even better than throwing rocks: peeing on the campfire to make a large hissing plume of stinky steam.
Too Many TV Commercials, Perhaps?
I asked one of the boys what he would like for his birthday, and his reponse was this: "an XYZ set, batteries not included, some parts sold separately, not a good choice for children under 3 years old."
DEAR MAMA: This is Elyse
Mama, I recently sent you an email that started off with "Poor Buford. That Elyse should learn to keep her pants on." You emailed me back, saying "Who are Buford and Elyse?"
This picture is what I was talking about. You sent me this picture.
This picture is what I was talking about. You sent me this picture.
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Mam-rees, Light the Corners of My Mind...
In the infinite wisdom I have developed over almost seven lengthy years of motherhood, precious few truths have revealed themselves to me. One of them is that, once little boys turn about three years old, it's pretty smart to not walk around neck-ed in front of them, because they'll start asking all sorts of can-o-worm-opening questions about parts and hair and other things.
Since Rufus, the younger, is now four, I make it a habit to close the bathroom door when I shower. I cannot lock it, however, just in case one of the boys stabs the other one or sets fire to the dog or makes the toilet explode. I want to know the emergency vehicles and the aw-thor-ities are here.
So two days ago, Rufus comes busting into the bathroom while I was in the shower (glass door, thankfully steamed up). I gracefully turned so that all he was seeing was my lovely sideshot and all privates and R-rated areas were hidden, then I swiped a hand to clear the steam off the door at my eye level so I could make sure that he still had both eyes and all 12 fingers and to hear what his request might be. After I answered his question, he started to leave the bathroom but then stopped and turned back around.
He says to me, "Hey Mama..."
"What?"
"Show me yer boobies."
"Do what?!"
"I said 'Show me yer boobies."
"What are you talkin' about?"
"Come on, just one little peek."
I told the little pervert no thank you and to go on and get outta there. Later, I went to Bumpus, seeking sage advice on how set that boy right, how to raise up a freaky boobie-lovin' peekin' Tom Rufus up to be a nice smart gentleman, but Bumpus's response (of course, what else should I have expected?) was "That's my boy."
Since Rufus, the younger, is now four, I make it a habit to close the bathroom door when I shower. I cannot lock it, however, just in case one of the boys stabs the other one or sets fire to the dog or makes the toilet explode. I want to know the emergency vehicles and the aw-thor-ities are here.
So two days ago, Rufus comes busting into the bathroom while I was in the shower (glass door, thankfully steamed up). I gracefully turned so that all he was seeing was my lovely sideshot and all privates and R-rated areas were hidden, then I swiped a hand to clear the steam off the door at my eye level so I could make sure that he still had both eyes and all 12 fingers and to hear what his request might be. After I answered his question, he started to leave the bathroom but then stopped and turned back around.
He says to me, "Hey Mama..."
"What?"
"Show me yer boobies."
"Do what?!"
"I said 'Show me yer boobies."
"What are you talkin' about?"
"Come on, just one little peek."
I told the little pervert no thank you and to go on and get outta there. Later, I went to Bumpus, seeking sage advice on how set that boy right, how to raise up a freaky boobie-lovin' peekin' Tom Rufus up to be a nice smart gentleman, but Bumpus's response (of course, what else should I have expected?) was "That's my boy."
Monday, May 02, 2005
Forget Oprah: Fatty's Book Club, Selection #1
Filled with tear-jerkin' tension, symbolism of the marginalized maloderous, and plenty of good old fashioned burglin'.
Fatty's Book Club, Selection #1
Fatty's Book Club, Selection #1
Thursday, April 28, 2005
Fatty's Got an Issue:
But You Don't Seem to Re-uh-lize...
My Life is Good, You Old Bag!
My six year old knows the difference between a possum and a king-sized rat. He also noticed that an arm-uh-dilluh looks an awful lot like a little bitty rhinoserus who has survived a good ol' fashioned horn poaching. Thankfully, he doesn't know that the rhino horn has been used to make some of them afro-dee-siacs for some fur-in person with erectile dysfunction.
At any rate, it's pretty clear to me that MY BOY GOT SKILLS! So when the first grade teacher sent home the application for second grade "gifted and talented," I thought I'd give it a shot.
Have you ever filled out a form braggin' about how brilliant your own offspring is?
But he didn't make it. I was a little hurt, but Bumpus had an outright cow. After all, any child that can name 132 different pokey-men (they are CARTOON BEASTS and NO RELATION to Michael Jackson, thank Ba'hai) and all their battling statistics and can tell you all about photo-sin-thesis (which is not a bible scripture about taking nasty pictures, by the way) should at least get a ribbon or something!
So while my boy isn't on the road to becoming a doctor of physics who lives with his parents and writes computer games for the Japanese, Bumpus convinced me to call the woman in charge of this "gifted and talented" program to ask a few questions.
Her strategery was to take the first part of the conversation to go over every qualification for the program and tell me, one by one for all nine parts, that my child FAILED and DID NOT MEET STANDARDS and WAS NOT QUALIFIED to participate in their program. I tried to ask what, in a small school district, a 6 year-old "high achiever" (her words) who never studies anything and is currently reading chapter books and has started learning his times tables out of his own curiosity could do when he is otherwise a COMPLETE FAILURE at her tests. I also asked her what percentage of students are gifted enough to be at the party: 1-2%. That is 1-2 students PER GRADE. What the hell kind of party is that anyways?
The bottom line is that now I've had my first run-in with the public schools here in small town America, where we are and forever will be "outsiders" because we moved here 10 years ago and because we didn't marry our own cousins and because we don't keep an icebox on the front porch. And now I have officially been awarded the title of "trouble makin' anal retentive Mother."
Why do the schools always say "Hey! We want you to be INVOLVED in your child's education! Good parents are INVOLVED!" but then when you try to ask a question they give this attitude of "STAY OUT OF MY BUSINESS YOU PSYCHOTIC IDIOT WHO DOESN'T UNDERSTAND THE DELICATE PROCESS OF EDGE-Y-KATIN' YER CHILRUN!"
But I got to get these kids into college so they can buy my dentures and fix my cable TV!
At any rate, it's pretty clear to me that MY BOY GOT SKILLS! So when the first grade teacher sent home the application for second grade "gifted and talented," I thought I'd give it a shot.
Have you ever filled out a form braggin' about how brilliant your own offspring is?
But he didn't make it. I was a little hurt, but Bumpus had an outright cow. After all, any child that can name 132 different pokey-men (they are CARTOON BEASTS and NO RELATION to Michael Jackson, thank Ba'hai) and all their battling statistics and can tell you all about photo-sin-thesis (which is not a bible scripture about taking nasty pictures, by the way) should at least get a ribbon or something!
So while my boy isn't on the road to becoming a doctor of physics who lives with his parents and writes computer games for the Japanese, Bumpus convinced me to call the woman in charge of this "gifted and talented" program to ask a few questions.
Her strategery was to take the first part of the conversation to go over every qualification for the program and tell me, one by one for all nine parts, that my child FAILED and DID NOT MEET STANDARDS and WAS NOT QUALIFIED to participate in their program. I tried to ask what, in a small school district, a 6 year-old "high achiever" (her words) who never studies anything and is currently reading chapter books and has started learning his times tables out of his own curiosity could do when he is otherwise a COMPLETE FAILURE at her tests. I also asked her what percentage of students are gifted enough to be at the party: 1-2%. That is 1-2 students PER GRADE. What the hell kind of party is that anyways?
The bottom line is that now I've had my first run-in with the public schools here in small town America, where we are and forever will be "outsiders" because we moved here 10 years ago and because we didn't marry our own cousins and because we don't keep an icebox on the front porch. And now I have officially been awarded the title of "trouble makin' anal retentive Mother."
Why do the schools always say "Hey! We want you to be INVOLVED in your child's education! Good parents are INVOLVED!" but then when you try to ask a question they give this attitude of "STAY OUT OF MY BUSINESS YOU PSYCHOTIC IDIOT WHO DOESN'T UNDERSTAND THE DELICATE PROCESS OF EDGE-Y-KATIN' YER CHILRUN!"
But I got to get these kids into college so they can buy my dentures and fix my cable TV!
Monday, April 18, 2005
East Texas Paul Revere
Rufus, the four year old, got a nasty case of the stomach flu last Thursday. Despite the case of Clorox, the $12 in Lysol dis-in-fectin spray, and the two boxes of sani-wipes, I was caught by the beast on Saturday night, all night, in strangely precise three hour increments. Could this be karma payback for taking Ba'hai's name in vain?
Sunday morning, I felt like I had been hit by a truck, so when Rufus came bouncing into my room declaring his intent to invite the neighbor kids into our yard to play (in true 24-hour bug fashion, he was completely recovered and refreshed from his Hollywood-style digestive roto-rootering), I croaked at him from under the pillows, "Mommy was sick all night last night, just like you were before. Go play outside and let me sleep." Thankfully he agreed and ran out the door.
As I was blissfully slipping back into post-traumatic oblivion, I heard this small child through the open window. He had run out to the end of the driveway and was screaming in his best you-could-hear-me-over-an-erupting-volcano voice: "YOU CAN'T COME OVER! MY MOM WAS THROWING UP ALL NIGHT AND SHE POOPED ALL OVER THE PLACE!"
And thus, the small town grapevine was informed.
Sunday morning, I felt like I had been hit by a truck, so when Rufus came bouncing into my room declaring his intent to invite the neighbor kids into our yard to play (in true 24-hour bug fashion, he was completely recovered and refreshed from his Hollywood-style digestive roto-rootering), I croaked at him from under the pillows, "Mommy was sick all night last night, just like you were before. Go play outside and let me sleep." Thankfully he agreed and ran out the door.
As I was blissfully slipping back into post-traumatic oblivion, I heard this small child through the open window. He had run out to the end of the driveway and was screaming in his best you-could-hear-me-over-an-erupting-volcano voice: "YOU CAN'T COME OVER! MY MOM WAS THROWING UP ALL NIGHT AND SHE POOPED ALL OVER THE PLACE!"
And thus, the small town grapevine was informed.
Friday, April 15, 2005
Wednesday, April 13, 2005
Chapter 4:
And the Devil Dog Descended Upon Us
Chapter 4: And the Devil Dog Descended Upon Us
Originally uploaded by Fatty Will Rule the World!.
Chapter 3: Junk Yard Pot Roast
Important public service announcement to help you understand this chapter:
No one in the Happy House of Fatty and Bumpus gets called by his/her/its proper name unless the hand of God's wrath is about to land a print on the smooth peachy hills of Bootyville. Remember that as you wonder how many children (2), dogs (1), cats (2) and husbands (1) I have.
Now, on to our story:
No one in the Happy House of Fatty and Bumpus gets called by his/her/its proper name unless the hand of God's wrath is about to land a print on the smooth peachy hills of Bootyville. Remember that as you wonder how many children (2), dogs (1), cats (2) and husbands (1) I have.
Now, on to our story:
Since our cute little 6 pound puppy now weighs over 27 pounds and since he is still less than half way grown and since his body is one large muscle mass, he shall now and forever be knighted as Nelson the Pot Roast. Sometimes he is just "Fat Burger," depending on the mood around here. My boys, sometimes known as Huck and Tom (keep reading) and sometimes known as Boudreaux and Rufus (when I can spell good), inquired as to what purpose Ham Chunk's nipples may serve. I explained that they were just for decoration, that otherwise his chest would look too plain, so that God put ‘em on there sort of like the rivets on the naw-guh-hide couch we inherited from Aunt Linda, God rest her soul…but that no matter what good decorations they are, no piercings are allowed until you are paying your own rent. Ain't that right, Mama?
Chapter 3 brings us to the third stop on our "East Texas Witness Protection Tour." This picture is what you get when you mix one state park, one spring day, one clear running stream with only a few amoebas doing their best dis-en-terry disco, one Huckleberry, one Tom "Well Duh!" Sawyer, and one dog who thinks that if he's quick enough he can actually eat the bubbling rapids. They were, however, far tastier--both for he who licks and for he who is licked by the licker--than the grease trap he went rootin' in earlier.
Chapter 2: Hey You Rug Rats! Whar's My Dinner?
A couple of weeks later, after I recovered from the night of re-enacting my early 20's, we found us a good ol' fashioned east Texas fishin' camp! Lots of trees, campfires, flip-flops, free range animals, and competition over the best spot to haul in a big ol gape mouth stinkin' fish.
Bumpus spent all his time stringing big fat nightcrawlers onto the hooks. Mama and her parole officer even came over to visit!
Bumpus spent all his time stringing big fat nightcrawlers onto the hooks. Mama and her parole officer even came over to visit!
Chapter 1, Part 3:
What Happens in Gruene Should Stay in Gruene
Some bald-faced evidence of what swirlies, wine samples, Shiner Bock, and FREE FUDGE SAMPLES FROM THE GENERAL STORE will do to you.
Chapter 1, Part 2:
Robert Earl Keen, Jr. at Gruene Hall
Mama thought I was getting married in a beer hall. Maybe I should have.
Adventure ReportsChapter 1:
Did I Do Anything to Tarnish My Family's Name?
Wait. Don't Answer That.
Did I Do Anything to Tarnish My Family's Name?
The East Texas mafia has been busy, so we decided to load up, high-tail it out, and get to popping. Dog thought pooping up sounded fine, too. First stop was Gruene, which is pronounced Green and which is one of three German words I know: "Gross-uh grune-ah shoe-uh." That means Big Green Shoe, which I hear they wear a lot of over in them fur-un countries. I can't remember the spelling because that was back in high school when I had only just begun the slow suffocation of my brain cells. Anyway, I'm still eating Freedom Fries and refusing to drive my BMW because those posers refused to BACK MY BOY, GEORGE W! Bunch of panty waist losers.
Needless to say, I, Fatty B Small, enjoyed myself mightly on this trip, especially the part where I got into the Robert Earl Keen Jr. concert--which, by the way, had been sold out for weeks--because I had been partaking of various beverages throughout the day and so I had plenty of nerve to go up to his tour bus and beg. Loudly.
The road goes on forever.
Needless to say, I, Fatty B Small, enjoyed myself mightly on this trip, especially the part where I got into the Robert Earl Keen Jr. concert--which, by the way, had been sold out for weeks--because I had been partaking of various beverages throughout the day and so I had plenty of nerve to go up to his tour bus and beg. Loudly.
The road goes on forever.
Tuesday, March 01, 2005
It's Good to Be Out of Jail!
Let freedom ring! Now that I am available again, I'll start working on a lovely misterpeace for the ol family blog.
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